Have You Had a Manicure? Week
by Channel D
Summary: Tim has been picked to manage Have You Had a Manicure? Week at NCIS! He doesn't know what to do, so he turns to Fornell for advice. Crack!fic/humor written as a ficlet for the NFA Haiti Relief auction. One-shot.


_**Have You Had a Manicure?**_** Week**

**by channelD**

_written as_: an NFA Haiti Relief ficlet.

_rating_: K plus

_characters_: Tim, Fornell (non-slash)

_genre_: crack!fic

_prompt_: **manicures**

- - - - -

_disclaimer_: I still own nothing of NCIS. After this story, they're all probably saying, "Thank heavens!"

- - - - -

"_Agent Fornell, you've got to help me. I'm desperate!"_

"Speak up; I can barely hear you. Is this McGee? What's the trouble, kid?"

"_I'm in deep, deep trouble. I have no one here I can turn to. Can you come to NCIS, right now?"_

"For you, kid. Sure. Let me clear away a few things…" He dumped paper contents of his desk's IN box tray into the recycling bin next to his desk. "…Done. I'm on my way." Zooming out and down the restricted management-only elevator, he jumped into the Fornellmobile and was at NCIS HQ faster than you can say _ytlbugblwxglgbxelzxliurb deiugdzblew!_

Soon Fornell was at Tim's desk. Tim was just hanging up his phone. "Wow, you _are_ fast!"

"What's the emergency? I'm passing up Hot Pastrami Day in the FBI cafeteria."

Tim looked about nervously. Gibbs, Tony and Ziva were out in the field (a rather muddy field, on this warm, March day), but he didn't want to risk being overheard. Even though everyone knew that NICS centered on Gibbs' team, there were always people in the background…nameless, voiceless people who were walking on the periphery of the squad room. Tim had no idea who they were. Maybe they were all spies, infiltrating NCIS! Maybe only Tim could see them! Thoughts like these kept him awake at night. "Let's go somewhere private."

Fornell stiffened his spine (his own, not Tim's). "I was a commissioned officer; a lieutenant, not a private, I'll have you know."

"Yes, sir. Sorry, sir. This way."

Tim led the older agent up the stairs to the third floor, then down another flight of stairs, and another, then up another, and another until Fornell shoved him into an elevator. "You've got a screwy sense of direction, McGee. My knees don't appreciate all those stairs."

"We're almost there," Tim said, apologetically. When the elevator door opened again, they were back at the squad room. "Do you think anyone followed us?"

"If they did, they're dizzy by now. Talk!"

"Okay. We'll go into my office." Tim stepped back into the elevator, and hit the STOP button.

Then he hit the DOOR OPEN button. Fornell was still standing before the elevator, his face now an unbecoming shade of crimson. "Sorry, sir," said Tim. "I guess this works better if we're both inside the elevator, huh?"

"Do you rent office space from Gibbs?" Fornell asked, stepping inside.

"There's a petty cash jar on his desk."

"Okay," Fornell said as Tim hit the STOP button once again. _"Now_ are you going to tell me what this is about??"

- - - - -

"The agency has a new 'improve yourself' week coming up," Tim said with a sigh. "This one is _Have You Had a Manicure? Week._ And because I have had one…more than one…I've been picked to run it."

"How manly," Fornell sympathized. "But how can _I_ help you? I'm not the manicure type."

"I don't really know," Tim said, with a whimper. "You were paired with me for this story. I don't know why. I was hoping you would know."

Fornell turned his head and stared out at the readers. "Well, I'll be…" he said, and started to reach outside the computer screen. Thinking better of it, he pulled his arm back in, with a shudder, and turned back to Tim. "Maybe _you're_ paired with _me."_

"Can't be. I have top billing. See up there?" Tim pointed to the top of the page.

"It's a crazy, crazy world…Okay, here's what you need to do. When in doubt, share the work load. You can say that you'll be in charge of the manicure drive, and appoint Ziva or Abby to be in charge of the womanicure drive."

Tim gave him a curious look. "But that's not what 'manicure' means…"

"Come on! You've got smarts, kid. You can make a yarn to disprove what people _think_ they know it means."

"Hmmm, yeah…you may be onto something there…"

An alarm sounded and a light flashed in the elevator. A robotic arm holding a tin cup came out of a wall panel. In a scratchy recording of Gibbs' voice, the speaker said, _"Please deposit $1.25 for the next ten minutes of office use."_

"I think we're done here," said Fornell, shooting the robot arm before Tim could beat him to it.

- - - - -

And so it happened that Tim led the NCIS men on a pilgrimage to a lodge with paintball, tennis, golf, swimming, and, oh yes, a salon, with Agent Fornell of the FBI as a guest speaker; while Abby championed the NCIS women's spa weekend at a nearby resort. Director Vance was happy to report to the SECNAV and the HR department that _Have You Had a Manicure?_ Week boosted morale 140%.

Meanwhile, Gibbs (who did not believe in being told to get a manicure…personicure…whatever!) sat at NCIS, wondering why donations to his robot tip jar in the elevator were down. _Oh, well. I'm sure there's a reasonable explanation,_ he thought as he sat, filing his nails.

-END-


End file.
